Regret
by Solarmech
Summary: As New York is destroyed Elizabeth thinks about the past and future.


1Regret

She could hear the explosions. Big ones, small ones. So many of them. Even with the blowing snow blocking the view of the city below her, she could still see what was happening, what had happened and what would happen in a million million worlds.

The annihilation of the human race.

The snow cleared and she could see Columbian zeppelins bombarding the great city below her. New York City. That was where he told her he was from. Maybe that was why the Prophet had hated this city so. It had been his home.

She smiled slightly without any humor. What would have been the Prophet's reaction to the "False Shepard" being here in Comstock House, right now, just a few floors away from her?

A strong gust of icy wind tried to push her back from the edge of the destroyed balcony. She should have worn something warmer. She was 90 years old and the cold made her bones ache. No matter. She had suffered through much worse and it would all be over soon enough.

She watched through the Doors as the man that she had been so certain had abandon her all those years ago desperately called her name and fought to find her. He hadn't abandoned her though, had he? No. She had opened a Tear and brought him here, to show him what would happen and why it had to be stopped.

The irony was not lost on her. By bringing him here, she had caused all this. The suffering she had endured, the hope she lost, the billions of people who were now dying, would soon die or where already dead. But what other choice had she had? Songbird stopped him, always. And his death always broke her and left her to become a hollow thing that "Father Comstock" could easily twist into his own image. And all the suffering and death still happened.

There was a chance now it could be ended. Would never happen.

Not for her of course. But for the world, a million million worlds that would never have Columbia darken their skies and destroy their cities. Worlds where a Tear would not open and horrible weapons would spill out and wipe a helpless humanity from existence.

And the cost would be the life of a single man.

The man was here, fighting his way through the guards that supposedly protected her. Of course the real reason for the guards was to make sure she didn't do anything that the true rulers of Columbia didn't want her to do. She was a figurehead now, a puppet. A puppet that wasn't even important anymore.

But that puppet had broken her strings and the rulers of Columbia hadn't realized it.

She could only break free now, with everyone's attention focused on "purging the Sodom Below." The Syphon had been shut down and the Leash broken. She could finally see all the Doors and what was behind all the Doors. She saw who she was, who the man was, the Prophet and so much more.

And she saw what needed to be done.

The only way to stop the Prophet was to make sure he was never born. There was no other way. For if even one survived in a single world, a million new worlds would grow from it. And from there Columbia destroy world after world until only Columbia still lived.

It had happened, would happen, was happening right now.

The man below her had run afoul of one of the Boys of Silence and was battling the club wielding Broken Ones sent against him. The man fought with his weapons and vigors, but the Broken Ones were twisted by Tears and hardy beyond reason. The fight brutal with dead Broken Ones littered the floor. In some worlds they had been shot, others burned by fire or sundered by explosions, but the man stood triumphant.

In a few worlds though, the man did not win this battle and his shattered body lay on the ice encrusted floor as the Broken Ones wandered around lost in their insanity. The versions of her from those worlds would weep, a few screamed and some even considered stepping off into the air just a few feet in front of them, but none ever did. Even if they would never be able to speak to him again, they still could loan their strength to others who would. They knew as well as she what needed to be done.

All they needed as a one, just one, of the many different versions of the man to get to where they stood now. When that happened, she would be able to send him back to save her, the younger version of herself and stop Comstock. What would happen after that, even she could not see. The disruptions caused by the paradox blinded even her view of the Doors. But she saw that it worked and that was what mattered.

She looked at the card on which the message to her younger self was written. The message was written in a cipher she knew well and the two drawings would be the clues she would need to control Songbird when the time came. The cypher was there to keep him and even her from knowing the whole truth before they was ready.

Right now her true protector fought through her many false protectors. In some worlds it was The Boys of Silence, others The Thrice Born, in more The Folding Men or The Blood Casters. She had been able to send some of the monsters away, but always a few stayed to guard her. And he would have to overcome these monsters to find her. In some worlds he died, but that was a rare occurrence. In most he won through and from that victory sprang a million worlds.

She had once called him a thug in her anger as an insult. Now everything depended on him being a very good at being a thug.

As he moved through the cold ruins of Comstock House, she opened Tears to her past. Through these Tears he could hear what occurred, what happened to her. He heard her screams of pain. Heard how Comstock and the "doctors" plan to put the Leash on her. Heard how her hope and belief in him slowly died. She also brought forth Voxophones for him to listen to, to hear her own words. She knew it hurt him, but there was no choice.

A large explosion consumed a building in the city below as three zeppelins in formation flew past. More fires were burning now, the smoke rising up to mix with the still falling snow. A large war zeppelin, a Divine Wrath class she thought, unleashed a volley of twenty missiles into a tall tower in the distance following it up with heavy cannon fire. After a few moments the building tipped and crashed to ground burying whole city blocks in burning rubble.

How many people had just died because of her? How many men, woman children were wiped from the Earth because of her? Too many. Even one person dying because of her was too many. And whole worlds were doomed because of what she had set in motion and could not stop.

The man had killed the last of her guards and was on his way. The massive door was open now and he ran through to the where he heard her screaming in pain. She sighed sadly. All he would find is a Tear to when Comstock had tortured her. Back then she had irrationally hoped that her cries might somehow summon the man to rescue her, but he hadn't come.

Now he was here, but it was many many years too late to save her.

Hum. The Luteces were here. Not really a surprise that they had decided to check on how their "experiment" was going personally. They spoke to the man, but they were as cryptic as ever and he didn't really understand what they said. If he wasn't confused and worried for her, she was sure he would be able to figure it out. But not right now.

After the pair were finished confusing the man, they vanished, off to their next experiment she supposed. It would have been easy enough to find out when and where, but it was of no importance.

What was important was that the man had run into the room behind her and she heard him calling for her. Her heart leapt with joy at the same time an icy hand crushed it with shame and regret.

"Elizabeth! I don't understand. I heard you screaming, I was... I was coming to get you! Are we-" He couldn't see her yet, he could only see her silhouette against the sky behind her.

As he spoke she turned slightly to look at him, to see him with her own eyes at last. He looked the same as when Songbird took her away. The same as when he crashed into the library on Monument Island.

No, not quite the same.

He was different somehow. She could see it from across the room. But what? Then she realized what had changed.

The self-serving "detective" was gone, replaced by a man who would die to protect her. How had he changed so much without her seeing it? Or had he been that way from the start and it had been buried under the false memories from his passage through the Tear to Columbia?

It really didn't matter, did it? He would never abandon her, would die to protect her.

Will die.

For the first time in seventy one years, she spoke to her father.

And ensured his death at her hands.

This is the last of my "Bad Future" stories. Hope you enjoyed them.


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